


Him.

by liealittlelouder



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 16:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11878281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liealittlelouder/pseuds/liealittlelouder
Summary: OMG!! First fic on AO3! ASDFGHJKL!!! HOW WAS IT!? DID IT SUCK?? WAS IT TOLERABLE!!??Basically this little one shot thing was the product of listening to ''80's films'' by Jon Bellion wayyy too much. And for some reason, i was just overcome with wolfstar feels ok?Tell me how I did? How can I improve? Look forward to hearing from you guys (even though right now i'm just talking to myself)Love you loads, have a great day <3 <3 <3





	Him.

Next to him. Beside him. Inches away. So close, their breaths tangle together and their shoulders touch each other. But no one’s moving. Old, television light reflects off their eyes and cheeks. They’re watching – seeing with their eyes, but feeling with their fingers – so close, so close to each other. It would be so easy to just nudge his hand and hold it and feel it shift under his thumb. So easy.

But no one moves. Eyes stay trained on the television, and hands lie clenched in determined stature. But their breaths fall in the same air. And their shoulders are touching. And they’re not really watching the film.

 

Next to him. Close to him. Sitting comfortably beside him, smiling out the window. The noise is loud outside, piercing guitars and bass drums and screaming and squealing. But inside the car, it’s quiet, and everything else is just a faded watercolour. There’s only the soft crackle coming out of the radio and the quiet laughing, because he’s just said something and it doesn’t matter what he’s said – it’s worth smiling for.

When he sees him smiling, he’ll start smiling too. And then they’re both laughing, silently. And talking in whispered voices, his head resting against the window and his hand resting lightly on the steering wheel, fingers tapping out the lyrics of a song.

And there must’ve been a point where they both looked over at the other, grey fixating on brown – and the conversations have stopped, and the music outside has disappeared. It’s just the two of them, and nothing would’ve been easier than leaning over and telling him that. But he doesn’t.

They look away, still smiling. Still smiling.

 

In front of him. Behind him. Completely trapped. Fumbling for the keys to the dorm and stammering, eyes flying everywhere, hands shaking. He twists the key, but the door doesn’t budge open, and somehow – somehow, he’s pressed against it and grey eyes are staring him down. Calmer hands push through his trembling fingers, holding tight.

Noses touch, and chins nudge each other. And his lips are like a retro film. Arms wound around his waist and pulls him closer and he tugs on the shirt, pulling even closer. And it’s everything he’s tried to say. Everything they couldn’t. The door opens, and they stumble inside. It’s hard to let go. They keep falling. Again. And again. And again.

 

Alone. Close to his heart. Waking up at four in the morning, and it’s one of those really bad days. The pillows next to him are empty and the sun falls on the inside of the curtains, never reaching his eyes. Shadows are darker and sharper. Every sigh is an effort.

When he gets up, he just sits there, staring. Staring. And thinking too much.

And when he picks up the phone, he keeps staring – staring at the numbers that spell out his name. But pressing another button is an effort worth too much, and what if he doesn’t understand. What if unhappiness was contagious.

So he let’s go. For now.

 

Cold. Colder than his heart. Folded in, knees pressed together and hands drawn taught beside him. Water spilling from the sky and wiping his tears on a hoodie that still smells like too much. A ratty suitcase beside his feet, soaking in the rain because there’s no reason left to move out of the storm. Cars speed past, headlights on high beam. And he stays. He stays.

 

Here. Next to him. Smiling out of his eyes and breathing out of his mouth. Pulling him back inside and keeping him there. Telling him he loves him. And holding on. Giving him a reason to hold on. Closer – he’s a warmer sun.

 

Closer – he’s a warmer sun.

**Author's Note:**

> OMG!! First fic on AO3! ASDFGHJKL!!! HOW WAS IT!? DID IT SUCK?? WAS IT TOLERABLE!!??
> 
> Basically this little one shot thing was the product of listening to ''80's films'' by Jon Bellion wayyy too much. And for some reason, i was just overcome with wolfstar feels ok?
> 
> Tell me how I did? How can I improve? Look forward to hearing from you guys (even though right now i'm just talking to myself) 
> 
> Love you loads, have a great day <3 <3 <3


End file.
